Re­minder of the an­gels around us

Winnipeg Free Press - Section G - - THE SOCIAL PAGE -

ON a beau­ti­ful sunny day in Septem­ber, I surely had an­gels look­ing after me. When I drove to the pass­port of­fice on Main Street, park­ing spa­ces were scarce, but when I saw a car pull out in front of the build­ing, I pulled in. Inside the of­fice, a gen­tle­man in uni­form ad­vised me to go back and move my car. The city worker was al­ready writ­ing my ticket when I got there. I begged him to let me just drive away, and he did. He was an­gel No. 1. Find­ing a le­gal place to park was dif­fi­cult, but I re­mem­bered there was a lot at the end of Mar­ket Street. I drove there and parked against the brick build­ing at the end. After I had walked about half a block, I re­al­ized I hadn’t bought a park­ing ticket, so I walked back and tried to use a city park­ing me­ter. I could not get it to work. After a while, two nice ladies came by and, after some dif­fi­culty, got me my ticket. An­gels No. 2 and 3. As I walked on, I re­mem­bered I hadn’t left the ticket on the dash­board of my car. I couldn’t see my­self walk­ing all the way back, so I took a chance and just kept on walk­ing. By the time I got to the Pan­tages The­atre, I felt my­self get­ting very weary. After all, I am 84 years old. I touched the wall for support ev­ery step I took, but after the the­atre there was noth­ing to touch and use as a guide. I felt my­self lean­ing for­ward and walk­ing faster and faster. Be­fore me, I could see a park bench where I could sit and rest. As I got close to the bench I fell, hard. I lay there, help­less. Two young ladies came over and asked if they could help. I could not speak, be­cause of shock, I guess. They phoned for an am­bu­lance, which ar­rived shortly after. As the ladies walked away, I was able to say thank you three times in ap­pre­ci­a­tion. An­gels No. 4 and 5. The am­bu­lance work­ers were so kind and help­ful. They put a big brace on my neck and wiped the blood from my face be­cause I got a big gash on my fore­head when I hit the steel arm of the bench. They were the gen­tlest of gen­tle­men. An­gels No. 6 and 7. At the in­ten­sive care unit at Health Sciences Cen­tre, staff re­moved the board from un­der­neath me and the huge brace from my neck. The hos­pi­tal bed ac­tu­ally felt com­fort­able. After many X-rays and pain med­i­ca­tion, I still could not move be­cause of pain in the rib area. The next af­ter­noon, I had vis­i­tors, Anita and Mar­laine, two of my best friends from the Sweet Ade­lines. An­gels No. 8 and 9. I was sure my car ei­ther had a ticket or had been towed away, but when they checked, they found my car was still where I had left it, and it hadn’t been tick­eted. Woo hoo! An­gels were def­i­nitely with me. One of them picked me up at the hos­pi­tal after I was re­leased the next day. I was pre­scribed painkillers and in­structed to re­cu­per­ate at home here at Dakota House, where there are many an­gels as well. The staff are all so kind and help­ful, do­ing house­keep­ing one day a week and bring­ing me my meals. We all have an­gels around us, but we have to be re­minded about this ev­ery once in a while, as I was. This is my thank-you to all of you. God bless ev­ery­one.

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